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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29473755">7 minutes in heaven</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stimmedtavi/pseuds/stimmedtavi'>stimmedtavi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Apex Legends (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Fuckboy Crypto do you HEAR ME???, Gay, Heartbreak, M/M, also octane is a fuckboy but yknow what thats normal thats expected, cryptane - Freeform, cryptane angst, fuckboy crypto, gaypex legends - Freeform, lovers but not lovers but kind of also, mlm, octane gets his heart broken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:01:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29473755</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stimmedtavi/pseuds/stimmedtavi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>what happens when the fuckboy fucks up?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Octane | Octavio Silva</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>7 minutes in heaven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is just sort of a blurb tbh </p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wasn’t even into him, so it shouldn’t really matter, but it does because this is the first time. Stuff like this ends up keeping you up at night, chasing your own mind in circles while you try and piece together your heart. Because when you’re someone who goes through people like they’re pencils you don’t really give a second thought to what it’s like to be the one who is abandoned. Maybe that’s selfish of me, to run through people and give them what seems like my all and then just leave. At the base of it it’s really just me trying to keep myself awake, keep myself out of the cookie cutter my parents want me to be. I don’t want to be who people keep trying to form me to be, I’m not what I present as. I choose not to be that. I’m reckless, selfish and dense. Stubborn is often used to describe me, something that frequents Ajay’s mouth when she chastises me, but I don’t care anymore. “Let loose,” I always tell her. “Live a little,” I tease back, knowing I’m barely alive on my own.</p><p>	Parties end, people break up and I keep breathing knowing damn well I’m not alive when I’m alone. I’m such a zombie when I have no one to talk to, but there was this guy that made it seem like maybe it’s okay to be alone. We were never anything more than friends, though it seemed like he wanted to be, and I think it was really good that way. Life was too quiet when he came in, so it seemed like he was the life of the party. His kind words made me feel like maybe it was okay to be quiet, like it was okay for it to just be two people in a room rather than people I’ve never spoken to before and a guestlist. But I only realize now that he only felt so different because there was nothing else to feel, his words only meant something because no one else was speaking to me. There wasn’t anything really remarkable about him at all, except for the fact that he kept me company. Either way, everyone ends up in heaven one day. </p><p>	That’s how we ended. Stuck in a closet for 7 minutes, knees touching the others and our faces so close that a single movement could create a whole new situation. I could already feel him basically, the air ghosting his lips over mine as he spoke to me. I can barely remember what he said but I know it was something along the usual lines of his words. He didn’t speak French, but I know love language when I hear it. The party was so loud I could barely decipher his words but I didn’t even need to, the background noise becoming static as I remembered every late night phone call, every word that made my face go red with humiliation. Jokes, that’s what I thought his words were. But in that closet, with his lips ghosting over mine as he muttered how much I mean to him, how he had never met someone as fantastic as me, how I made his head spin and his face flush. That night his words held weight as they passed his ghost lips onto my tongue, and I drank them down. Intoxicated with his facade of love I walked out of that closet drunk on something I’d never felt before. There was no reciprocation, but I’ll always take liquor when it’s offered. My face was red like I had been daydrinking and walked into this party fucking smashed, like he made me hold my breath in there. And in a way he did, because I felt suffocated under his heart. I’ve never wanted to drown more.</p><p>	So after that night I let him hold me by my neck, I let him carry me around like I was the only thing that mattered to him because that’s how he treated me. And it’s fucked up to say but in the dead of night sometimes you need someone to lift you up, whether you reciprocate or not. Of course I’d be kind back, I’m not a monster, but I feared he took my words the wrong way because each time I asked him to take care of himself, please stop killing yourself with all this shit you do and the addictions you choose, he’d only smile and raise a brow. Like it was a challenge to love him, like he wanted me to fall in love. I don’t fall in love anymore, there’s no celebrations for falling in love and there’s no medals for deciding to settle so I don’t. The people I date I love, but it’s never enough for me to stay. I choose the ones that hurt so I don’t have to feel anything when I go. They’ve got their addictions and to me they’re nothing but something to keep me from withdrawals. I’m a sick fuck, I get it, I know. But when all you’ve ever known is getting left behind and being scooped hollow you have to find temporary fixes. Nothing fills up holes from the past unless you get them back from who stole them, and I don’t fuckin’ talk to my parents. So when he made me feel full like this, when he made my meaningless little body feel like I was worth something, like I was more than the life of the party, it felt good. I didn’t want to leave. I still wasn’t in love but he was always there to make me feel a little more okay. I wasn’t a zombie anymore, no longer did I walk aimlessly wandering for my next victim. Instead I was okay to stay home on a saturday night, laughing the night away and rolling my eyes at the compliments he fed me, though I ate them right out of his hand. Without a single drop of alcohol he had me dizzy. I guess he meant something to me. Nearly no one has made me want to stay more. </p><p>So when I saw him with a girl, tangled up in her on the far side of the room to a party he invited me to, it broke me.</p><p>	My head went hollow and my body was left empty again, he drained himself out of my mind and he never even touched me. Yet again my face went red, his words running through my mind like a tv clicking through the channels too quick, a blank mind that couldn’t simulate physical feeling making the ghost of his lips touch mine again. I spun out of control, like a car on an icy road I stumbled my way to the bathroom. I didn’t even care about the eyes that bore through me, viewing the life of the parties lack of insides getting choked up into their hands. I threw up into my own fucking hands. I couldn’t even make it to the bathroom, so disgusted with my own foolishness that I sicked into my own worthless hands. That’s all I feel anymore, worthless. My body left hollow once again, a lack of a heart now there. It surprised me, I never loved him, so I didn’t think it would hurt. But having a friend lie hurts more than a lover. </p><p>Knowing you I knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. I knew there would be questions and you’d go over the top and you’d care too much and I wouldn’t care at all. Or at least I thought I knew. Because the next morning I called you, crying on the phone, asking you why you made me feel full if you didn’t mean a damn thing that came out of your mouth. Asking why you held me like I was the world when to you I was nothing but a rock, begging you to explain what happened. I should have left it. I should’ve left my body back in that closet where you told me those things I can’t remember, because the explanation hurt more than the accident. </p><p>“I was practicing, thank you for helping me out.”</p><p>	That’s what you said to me. Your voice crackling through my shitty broken phone speakers you told me I was nothing but practice to you. For once I was not the monster over the phone. And I realize now I’m not a monster, the ones I’ve loved I’ve actually felt for. I still talk and care about them. I never used them to fill me up, not to make me feel okay but because I loved them and making someone else feel whole made me feel like I held worth. But that was not this situation, and I still was not the monster. Every word that passed through your mouth was a lie, every single thing that made me feel whole and like I meant a damn thing and like I held any meaning was a lie. Much like your lips, they were a ghost. Something that never should have touched me in the first place. I had nothing to say to you at that point, a choked “Okay” coming out of my tightening throat before I hung up on you. Now your number is blocked and I don’t talk to anyone. I’m back to going to parties but I don’t speak, I just drink. A zombie of what the life of the party used to be made of, but now they bear their ugly side. I’m unlikeable and worthless, not worth peoples love and affection. I’ll get my rush in some other place, I’m sick of being fed lies. I don’t want to play with my heart strings anymore, the next time someone like him comes along I might just give myself a heart attack.</p>
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